


whole hearted

by demistories



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Teen for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8698333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demistories/pseuds/demistories
Summary: Marinette buries herself in her sketchbook. She won’t let herself get blocked she won’t let herself get blocked.Her hand is cramped from squeezing her pencil so tight but if she loosens her grip at all she’s going to go back to shaking.Don’t think about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i mentioned it before, but i entered a sort of writing competition. today i found out that i wasn't selected for recognition. 
> 
> this past year has been really hard. it's been less of a year of learning 'you can't always get what you want' and more of learning 'you can never get what you want. ever.' every single time i've gone for something, a position or an award or quite literally anything, i've been shot down. i can't think of anything that i've wanted and gone for that i've gotten in the past.....7 months at least. and i keep trying to tell myself that it doesn't mean anything and that it's worth it to keep going but. it's getting really really hard
> 
> writing this was hard. it was near impossible. i'm trying to get better at rejection but i put so much into that submission and i feel like i've just been told part of myself wasn't good enough. they had 8,000 application. my odds were not good. but writing is something that i feel that i'm at least moderately decent at so i thought maybe...
> 
> i haven't told anyone about this yet. i haven't cried. i've been shaking a lot. so this is me. trying to move on and comfort myself. of course the first thing i write for the ot4 is depressing, that just seems to be my mo. i just needed lots of characters' comfort and this is the best i can do

Marinette buries herself in her sketchbook. She won’t let herself get blocked she won’t let herself get blocked.

Her hand is cramped from squeezing her pencil so tight but if she loosens her grip at all she’s going to go back to shaking.

Don’t think about it.

The side of her hand is covered with graphite and it keeps smudging her designs. She’d stop but she can’t. Her heart is wrapped up in anxiety and she can’t breathe properly if she’s not hyper focused. If her mind starts wander then her heartbeat starts racing and her breathing gets all weird. Her head hurts from all of this. Maybe she should just go to bed.

Marinette flips the page. She can keep going. She’ll figure out what they want from her if she designs enough outfits. That’s statistics, right? She’d ask Adrien if she didn’t think her words would betray her.

She’s pretty sure she designed this dress before. Just with different colors and slightly different folds. No wonder no one wants her. She can’t even design an original dress.

She hasn’t cried yet and she’s not going to. She’s stronger than that. She’s developing a thick skin. Rejection can’t hurt her. This is the industry she’s chosen and rejection is a part of it and she’s accepted that and moved on and isn’t hurt. This hasn’t hurt her. It’s fine.

“Mari?” Alya asks as she opens the studio door.

“I’m fine,” Marinette answers automatically.

“Oooookay I was going to ask if you wanted coco actually.”

Marinette looks up from her sketchbook. “Oh.”

“So I take that as a no you’re not okay and yes you want coco.”

Marinette looks back down at her design. This sketchbook is almost full. Most of it is garbage. She’s not in the habit of throwing out sketchbooks. They hold a little part of her soul and looking back on her old designs is very important to her. But she has the very strong urge to trash this one. Or set it on fire. Rip it to shreds. Flush it down the toilet. Scratch it out of her life.

“Mar?” Alya asks softly.

Oh.

Marinette almost forgot Alya was there. “I-I’ll be out in a minute,” she promises. “Just let me finish this.”

Alya nods slowly. “Right. We’ll be waiting.”

The ‘we’ makes her stomach turn.

“Mhm.” Marinette waits for Alya to close the door before she puts her head down on the desk. She squeezes her eyes shut tightly and tries to hold back the tears.

It doesn’t feel worth the effort anymore.

Nino is the next one to knock on Marinette’s door.

She pushes her bangs up on her forehead. “Yeah?”

He opens the door and pokes his head in. “Yo, your coco is getting cold.”

“Okay,” she murmurs. “Did Al tell you to come get me?”

“Can I not worry about my girlfriend on my own?” Nino asks.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Marinette insists.

“Uh huh, tell that to the judge.” He offers Marinette his hand. “Come drink coco and eat way too many cookies. Adrien picked some up from your parents’ on the way home.” He wiggles his fingers.

She sighs. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

Nino shakes his head. “Not at all.”

Marinette lets Nino tug her to her feet and pull her out of the studio. She can let it happen but she doesn’t have to be enthusiastic about it.

Alya and Adrien are sitting at the kitchen table, mugs in hand and an open box of cookies in the center.

Adrien holds out a cookie to Marinette. “Chocolate chip?”

She takes it and sits down, Alya pushing a mug of hot chocolate her way.  

“So how was your day?” Alya asks, pointedly directing the question at Adrien. Marinette isn’t sure if she’s relieved or if she wants to get it over with.

“I got stabbed,” he says flatly. He reaches over and dunks his cookie in Nino’s coco.

“Hey!” Nino protests.

Adrien shrugs. “I drank all my coco and I’m injured.”

Alya rolls her eyes. “Getting poked with a needle isn’t an injury.”

“Who said it was with a needle?” Adrien pushes up the sleeve of his shirt. There’s a bandage wrapped around his forearm. “Shears were dropped and as usual, I have the worst luck.”

Nino grabs Adrien’s hand and yanks his arm closer. “Dude what the _hell_?!”

“I’m fine,” Adrien says with a laugh. “It hurt like hell but it’s really not that deep. Ruined some of the planned poses though. The outfit left my arms bare so we had to adjust to the fact that there’s gauze and bandages covering my arm.”

“At least it was more interesting than my day,” Alya grumbles. “All I did was sit in class and be bored.”

Adrien raises an eyebrow. “Did you _want_ to get stabbed?”

“If you truly loved me you would stab me,” she says.

“Don’t remember that from the fairy tales,” Nino murmurs.

“True love’s stab.”

Adrien snorts. He meets Marinette’s eyes and raises his eyebrows. She looks down into her drink, wrapping her hands tightly around the mug.

“Work was work,” Nino says. He swats away Adrien’s hand as he tries to dunk his cookie in Nino’s hot chocolate again. “It was both better and worse than usual, all the costumers today were actually decent human beings.”

“So no angry customer stories?” Adrien asks, pouting.

“Why does my pain cause you joy?”

He shrugs. “Less of that and more of I’m fascinated by customer service. I mean, how are half your stories real?”

“Trust me, babe,” Alya says. “You don’t know the half of it. Try living it.”

“I’d love to,” Adrien answers honestly.

“Job swap?” Nino offers. “I think I can handle sitting around and looking pretty.”

“You’re always pretty,” Adrien insists.

Alya glances to Marinette. “What about you, Mar? How was your day?”

Marinette lets go of her mug. Her fingers feel strange from gripping it so tightly. She unlocks her phone and slides it to the center of the table next to the box of cookies. The three lean forward to read the email.

Marinette focuses on her breathing while they read. If she can control her breathing then she can control her heartbeat and her emotions. If she can control her breathing she’s less likely to start crying.

“Oh, Mari,” Adrien breathes.

Her lip trembles and Alya’s arms are around her in a tight hug before Marinette chokes out the first strangled sob.

So much for not crying.

“I-I thought—” She hiccups. “Just once…”

“These people wouldn’t know style if it punched them in the face.” Nino’s wraps his arms around Marinette.

“They don’t,” Adrien agrees. He throws his arms around the three of them. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

“I- I just want to be good enough.” Marinette closes her eyes and buries her face in Alya’s shoulder. “Why am I not good enough?”

Alya pulls away, dislodging the hug pile. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you _are_ good enough. You’re good enough for us,” the boys nod in agreement, “you’re good enough for your parents, you’re good enough for _Gabriel Agreste_ , and you’re too good for this world. If these people can’t see that, that’s their problem, not yours.”

Marinette feels her face start to crumple. “Al,” she whispers, “I didn’t even get to the first round. I didn’t even get into the _competition_. What’s the point?”

“You love designing,” Nino says. “It’s your _thing_. Alya’s right, if people can’t see how great your work is they aren’t actually looking for it. They’re looking for what’s hip and cool and aren’t looking to the awesome fashion future you’re going to create.”

“Do you remember that awful professor I had who told me I had wasted my time with the Ladyblog?” Alya asks. “And he said that my writing style was too childish and excited for me to get anywhere with journalism?”

“Fuck that guy,” Nino says under his breath.

“After we planned his murder, you told me not to listen to him,” she reminds Marinette. “You told me that his opinion wasn’t important, that journalism was something I loved and was good at.” She nods to Nino. “Or when Nino got rejected from the film program at first. And you said that we have to keep going and keep trying.”

“You can’t be perfect in everyone’s eyes,” Adrien says softly. “Rejection is always going to sting but you can’t let it stop you. There’s always going to be someone who doesn’t like what you do or how you do it.”

“But you are perfect in ours,” Nino says. “No competition, lost, won, or unentered, is going to change that.”

“You throw yourself into fashion so whole heartedly.” Adrien smiles. “You’ve got a love for it like almost no one I’ve ever seen. I don’t think _anyone_ could stop you from doing what you want.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” Alya presses a kiss to Marinette’s forehead. “And I know it’ll hardly help, but do you want to print out that email and burn it? Because I sort of want to.”

Marinette forces a laugh through her tears. When she goes back to class tomorrow it’ll be hell. It’s going to feel like wading through molasses, she’s going to feel like she’s going nowhere. Her spark keeps getting blown out and she’s struggling to find a way to keep it lit in even the best of times. But this helps. Alya, Adrien, Nino, and all of their love helps. She sinks into their hug and nods. “I think I’d like that.” She would definitely enjoy seeing that rejection letter burn. 

**Author's Note:**

> i dont think this helped


End file.
